


A Court of Ice and Fire

by ohsweetescape



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Court of Thorns and Roses Fusion, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, Crossover, Fluff and Smut, Kings & Queens, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:40:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27468115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsweetescape/pseuds/ohsweetescape
Summary: The Cauldron works in mysterious ways...Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen is killed at the hands of Jon Snow only to awaken in world not her own - Prythian. Thrust upon the borders of Velaris, Rhysand and his inner circle are soon to discover that perhaps fate brought the mysterious Queen to them for a purpose greater than themselves...She just wants to return home to the throne she is owed and the people she swore to serve.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. The Blood of old Valyria.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to clarify things this way because it's easier than re-writing the ending of the show -- I've kept everything canon EXCEPT the reason behind Daenerys destroying King's Landing. The writers literally butchered her character by not only having her do that, but the WAY she did it. In my version, the bells never ring so she is forced to follow through with the attack on the city. That being said, she orders that her soldiers not only spare -- but protect the citizens and Lannister soldiers who surrender from the onslaught. In typical Daenerys fashion, however, she also orders for the execution/extermination of those who do not (as are the ways of war). After the conquest, I decided to keep that bit where she insists on "liberating" the rest of the world when she's addressing her army. Afraid for what that could mean, Jon still ends up killing her in the end. We will find out the "how" later on in the story, but after her death - Daenerys awakes in a world that isn't her own. Here we go: GoT - mainly Daenerys - meets ACOTAR.
> 
> I also want to say that im taking a lot of liberties with the crossover. Magic works differently in GoT than it does in ACOTAR, so im going to play a lot with how much of an anomaly Deanerys is in this world as well as some headcanon lore. This story takes place in a late Mist and Fury/mid Wings and Ruin timeline. Aaaand im keeping Rhys x Feyre because...yeah, they're mates. That doesn't necessarily close off any pairings between them or Daenerys. I'll play that by ear depending on muse and feedback :). Also Daenerys' eyes will be lilac despite the color in the show because um, yeah, love that for her - dont know why the show dropped the ball there.
> 
> This will be a 3rd person fic, but we'll mostly be following Dany throughout the story. Enjoy!)))

Betrayal stung more than any blade ever could. When Jon Snow pierced her heart did she think very little if nothing at all of the pain. But his eyes...his eyes tore through her more than any weapon could manage. Regretful, saddened eyes she would've gladly consoled any other day. There was fear there too. Fear of her reign, for what another age ruled by a Targaryen could mean - a name he refused to claim and a birthright she refused to relinquish. There was more there, too. Jon trembled at the idea that he might've made a mistake. Maybe, just maybe, he was no better than the misguided brothers of the Night's Watch when they'd plunged their own steel into his body. There was no time to dwell on regret. The deed was done. She stilled, wide-eyed and stunned, wishing she could rewind the clock to warn her younger self of ever trusting a man above personal intuition.

Surprise, hurt, anger and regret all flashed behind that once willful, beautiful lilac stare before her flame flickered out. The world went dark though her mind ran wild, thrashing and desperate. This couldn't be the end. She had so much more to offer and so much left to do. All she'd accomplished, everything she fought so hard to achieve, gone with a single kiss.

Her heart cried out to her children. Two of them lost to this war...and for what? Had all of this really amounted to nothing?

And what of her people? A nation of followers from all walks of life so willing to lay down their lives for no other reason than their love for her and their trust in the Breaker of Chains to free them from the wheel, to liberate and protect...she'd failed them. So close - so close to the promise of a new world only to have it slip in one vulnerable moment…

No.

No, this wasn't the end of her story. She had to live - to fight just as fiercely then as she had every other day. Jon Snow had cheated death. By some mystery, he'd been brought back to finish his purpose. The Prince Who Was Promised. But oh, she was more than destiny's pawn. She was life and death, forged from dragon fire and welded by winter's kiss. And perhaps it was her resilient, stubborn will that tore through the veil...but just as quickly did her last breath leave her did the first in this new world overwhelm her lungs.

Daenerys gasped so sharply that the wind was put to shame. Bright eyes shot open as she sucked in a few more desperate gulps of cool air, slamming a palm to her chest to find the spot vacant. Well, almost vacant. There was a tear in the fabric of her coat where a knife should've been - the only evidence that it was ever there to begin with. No knife, no blood and no Jon Snow. She was alive. Adrenaline took over as she rushed from lying on her back to her side, finding her bearings in...snow? Crunching, crumbling snow. This wasn't the Red Keep. Her head shot up, body trembling from more than shock now as the bitter chill set in. By the Seven, she was in the middle of nowhere. A frozen landscape; she couldn't see more than a few yards ahead or behind her with the beating winds. Was this hell? Would she forever be doomed to suffer at the hands of a long winter? Ironic, considering the events of which transpired in the last few months.

No...no, this wasn't death. Something was different, though. Strange. Off. Forget the fact she'd just been stabbed or that she was no longer anywhere near King's Landing...was this a vision, perhaps? Another like the one she received in the House of the Undying?

Daenerys stumbled to her feet and struggled to stay upright against violent gusts, hugging herself as her head whirled from left to right in search of life. "Greyworm!" She shouted, that clear voice echoing throughout the rocky mountain landscape out of her range of view. "Drogon!" Daenerys tried for her last remaining dragon then, the strongest and largest of them. He didn't roar in reply. She was alone.

Numb legs tracked through the biting snow. Her clothes were the same she'd worn in the throne room. Black leather-clad coat, pants and boots with a scaled red cape she'd since unclasped to wrap around her shoulders. It wasn't nothing, but it certainly wasn't warm. And right then? She needed warmth. The Khaleesi's teeth clattered despite the clench of her jaw, once pale cheeks now rosy and wind-burnt. Her limbs became rigid and numb within a few minute's time, body sore and thoughts disoriented. "Hello!" Another sharp cry, "Please, anyone!" How long had it been since she first woke up? Hours? She fumbled a step and fell to her hands and knees, crawling another few paces before her body gave out and she slumped into a bed of snow. Daenerys' mind, however, fought to remain conscious. Her eyes fluttered shut but she swore she caught the sound of flapping wings. "Drogon…" Her voice was caught in the back of her throat, lips barely parting to speak the name. Rest took her then. Rest and the comfort of someone else's warmth against her body. Suddenly she was weightless, a steady heartbeat in her ears to lul her to sleep.

_________

"How did a human manage so far north?" She didn't recognize that voice. It belonged to a woman. A young woman.

"Maybe she isn't human. She's no high fae, but neither am I." A gruff man responded. Another voice she didn't know.

"Yes, but you have two extra limbs growing out your back."

"Beside's the point."

"Do you think she's the cause of the tremor?" A new voice, another female asked. But before anyone could bother to answer did all fall silent to Daenerys' stirring.

Ashen brows furrowed as her head turned and body coiled before bright lavender eyes fluttered open. The tension in the room was thick with anticipation as her eyes were drawn to quite literally the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He was tan and fit, young seeming - no more in his early thirties with hair of midnight and eyes of striking violet deeper than her own. He met her gaze with an intensity that might've frightened her younger self. But the Queen in her postured despite circumstance, refusing to fold below his stare. "I'm glad to see you're awake." He greeted, voice as smooth as silk and dangerous as a poisoned kiss. The oddest thing about him though...his ears. They were pointed at the apex. Her eyes lingered on them only momentarily, brows furrowing less in concern and more so in confusion. A deformity? She knew of no Lord or people with this trait. Though it was the least of her concerns. She remained silent and continued to survey the luxurious room and the faces she didn't recognize from her spot on an overly comfortable bed. Slowly, like a cornered animal did Daenerys shift up to sit against the headboard.

From the violet eyed devil to the woman at his right, a stunning brown haired jewel with ears to match the other's, then a golden haired beauty and...wings. Daenerys' eyes fixed on the wings protruding from the back of a weathered, handsome warrior. He clenched his jaw and crossed his powerful arms in reply to her very obvious stare. The first man, the violet eyed devil, spoke again. "You're in no danger here-"

"Where am I?" She cut in, voice firm but a far cry from abrasive. Time to test the waters. Another day, another capture. Same old song and dance...different cast, though. Her gaze remained fixated on those spectacular wings.

The question brought on a momentary silence as they all seemed to share a glance. "You're safe." The brunette with swirling markings along her porcelain skin spoke then. That didn't answer her question. Daenerys chose to ignore the deflection for a time, crossing her hands over the heavy blankets atop her lap. "Who are you?" Friend, foe? Ally or enemy to her throne?

"The ones who saved your ass from freezing to death. You're welcome, by the way." At that, the Khaleesi's eyes flashed up from the stranger's wings to his ruggedly charming face. So it wasn't Drogon she had heard and hoped plucked her from the snow…"Morrigan." The blond beside him answered after jabbing the male's side. "This ray of sunshine is Cassian."

"Feyre." The other introduced before lastly, "Rhysand. High Lord-" He gestured to himself, "-And Lady of the Night Court." A set of his hand upon the shoulder of who Daenerys now presumed to be his wife. A Lord and Lady…"A pleasure." He mused.

She paused for a beat before nodding her head once in acknowledgement. Night Court. That wasn't...no, she'd never heard that title before. Where in gods name was she? "A pleasure indeed." She masked her unfamiliarity quite well, considering it best to be cordial since they had yet to show any sign of hostility. They didn't seem to recognize her, either. "Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen...Queen of the Andals and the First Men." The title was as lost on them as theirs was on her. The violet eyed devil, Rhysand, seemed the only face vacant of confusion. "You all are...are not of my kind." A keen observation. They were nothing like White Walkers either, or the Children of the Forest - at least not in appearance. The High Lord answered. "No. No, we are not."

She swallowed. "...I need to return to King's Landing."

"You're a long ways from home, your Highness."

"How long of a way?" She met Rhysand's gaze again. The delay in his answer spoke volumes more than anything he could verbalize. "I'm not sure. I was hoping you could enlighten us." Enlighten them? She was the one in need of enlightening. One moment she was before the iron throne, the next a knife was through her heart. And now…

"How far are we from the wall?" The best point of reference she could think of. If King's Landing sounded unfamiliar to them...surely the wall had to have meant something.

The rowdy bat, Cassian, opened his mouth to speak though Rhysand once again filled the silence before he could break it. "Further still from the wall you're thinking of. There's no King's Landing here, dear Lady. No Northern Wall, no Iron Throne and no Jon Snow." Daenerys's eyes went wide in her pale face, nostrils flaring as her chest expanded for a much needed breath. "What are you?"

"As puzzled as you are." A cryptic and unsatisfactory answer. He didn't give her a chance to complain before adding, "What is the last thing you remember?"

Jon.

Her jaw tightened and hands clenched onto each other. The knife. The betrayal. The ache. The anger. She remembered his eyes again, the feeling of his breath wafting over her lips as he cried. Then...darkness. A cold, bleak dark filled with nothing more than the sound of Jon's sobbing and…

A distant, echoing cry. A dragon's mourning song. Drogon.

"Interesting…" Rhysand mused despite her having said nothing at all. Everyone apart from he and Feyre (who'd been offering him side glances here and then) whirred with bewilderment.

Magic. She realized then that the tang of magic filled the air, a metallic taste she'd known in brief interactions with the Red Woman and facing off the White Walkers. And for a moment, in a quick flash, she felt fear. Not for herself…but for her people. She understood then that she was indeed a long way from home. Too long, she thought with a darkened gaze, to return at all. "I believe I was killed." The line made Feyre's back straighten as Morigan threw a glance the High Lady's way. "And somehow...death brought me here. Wherever 'here' is."

"Velaris." Rhysand finally revealed with a glance to a far sunny balcony at the other end of the room (directly behind the winged male and his blonde companion). "In the House of Wind - where you'll be staying for the time being." Everyone seemed a bit stunned by this. Whether the information he shared surprised them or the offer (or order, as it sounded) he gave did the trick, she wasn't sure. Daenerys only blinked once before slowly shaking her head. "I need to return home, I-"

There it was again, that tang of magic. Alarm bells blared in her head as goosebumps trailed fair skin. A feeling of being watched seeped its way into her bones, body going stiff as she locked eyes with the violet eyed devil and did something that disturbed even his cool mask of calm. Without meaning to, unaware until she'd done it, Daenerys slapped a mental wall forged of Velaryan steel around her mind to shove the unwelcome out. Rhysand's passive expression switched in a flash, eyes wide and mouth parted to stunned silence. His wife gaped, attention flickering between the two in shock. As if also sensing what'd happened, Cassian uncrossed his arms and not-so-discretely settled a hand upon the knife at his hip - wings flexing behind him.

"I don't know nor do I care for who or what you are...Enter my mind again and you will live to regret it." She seethed the words with such clarity, such poise despite the venom that tipped the edge of her well-versed tongue. A command. Though she held no authority here, that much she understood, Daenerys would be damned before she let anyone (much less a stranger) violate her in such a way. She had enough of that sort of business to last ten lifetimes.

His mask of collected swagger returned, strong brow perking as if impressed. "Apologies, Queen." Though he sounded mocking, "I didn't mean to offend." Or to get caught. Daenerys didn't reply, attention instead slipping away from the intruder to catch sight of Cassian's armored hand still latching onto his blade - the back of his palm adorned with...some sort of crystal? It shimmered a twisting ruby red as if liquid fire danced within. Though it was beautiful...she found herself less concerned with the ornament and more focused on his weapon - one of several he carried. "I meant it when I said you're safe here." The High Lady, Feyre, spoke now as she gestured for the winged soldier to be at ease. The dragon queen's eyes flickered up to meet his hazel own as if in silent challenge. He only grinned in reply, less insulting and more...amused. Endeared, really.

"It seems your understanding of how you ended up on our border is as limited as ours. If what you say is true...then returning to your homeland may prove difficult." Finally Daenerys offered the Lady her full attention. Feyre had kinder, more honest eyes than the rest. Kind but far from weak. Young and tested and tried, an untold story behind that enchanting stare. Eyes like hers.

She went on, "We have a friend of ours who's gone through a similar situation. She's away investigating the rift that your arrival tore but should be back before the day's end. If you would do us the honor of joining us for dinner, we could discuss the possibility of returning you home then - when you're better rested." Another like her? Daenerys weighed the Lady's words carefully. A rift...what did she mean by that? She wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of things right then and there. But they seemed just as clueless as she with no perceivable malice behind the offer to stay. "And if I choose to leave?" Feyre blinked, shifting her weight onto one hip with a glance to her husband. "Then you may leave. Whatever mysterious circumstance brought you here...you are our guest, Daenerys Stormborn. The city beyond these walls is yours to explore, though I would advise against venturing outside our borders - dangers beyond your comprehension lay in wait to prey on the unsuspecting."

If it were said in any other way, Daenerys might've barked back that she was well acquainted with danger and would rise to meet it. But Feyre seemed genuine in speech...and the Khaleesi had no ally to speak of in these unfamiliar lands. She was tired, she realized, after tracking through all that snow. Even more mentally drained from not only the day, but the years before it. Years spent fighting for a throne she only briefly managed to graze with the tip of her fingers - years full of pain and loss, triumph and disappointment. "...Alright." She finally replied to the room's relief. Rhysand only nodded once before offering his arm to his Lady, of which she gladly took. "Until dinner then. Feel free to roam or rest, I will have handmaidens send for you once supper is ready."

And with that, the room began to clear. "Wait-" Daenerys' clear but much gentler voice cut through the silence just as the winged fellow turned his back for the grand door. He paused with a hand at the exit's frame, turning to catch her eyes. "Thank you...for saving me, I mean." It wasn't an often occurrence to be rescued by strangers...quite the opposite actually when it came to her. "I owe you a debt." Cassian only grinned before offering her the most dramatic, overplayed bow from the middle that she'd ever seen. "Of course, your highness." He mused the words with a tang of overly comfortable humor, a tone she wasn't entirely used to (especially in the last few months). She didn't smile. "I'll hold you to that." Another poke at fun before he held once last lingering glance...and left her to her own thoughts - perhaps a fate worse than death.


	2. What We Do In The Shadows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys gets ready to meet the circle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I'm constantly thinking about this fic but only ever really get to sit down and write it - this chapter's a little longer than the last (I believe). I wanted to also note that Feyre's sisters, though they'll be mentioned, will not be included in this AU. As in: their run-in with the cauldron never happens because it's just a lot of characters for me to juggle/think about and their involvement kinda gets in the way of any potential romances. I Hope that's alright! Anyways, please enjoy this chapter :)

Daenerys couldn't bring herself to sleep. Despite the ache in her bones or the weariness of her spirit did that damned soul fight against the urge to rest. So much had happened in far too quick of a time. She'd won, hadn't she? With fire and blood did the dragon's daughter punish the wicked and free the righteous. From that frightened little girl trembling at the notion of being married off to a savage...to the Khaleesi that ruled them. Her people, she'd called them. Blood of her blood. Her family and her future. She thought of their tanned faces, thought of the way they danced and raised fires in her honor after every victory. What would happen to them now that they'd been lead and left so far from the Great Grass Sea? And what of her Unsullied? The army that chose her and the man they followed, her dearest friend and loyal soldier...a man she'd just named her Master of War. What of the former slaves she'd freed and promised a better world to? What of every oath she made to them?

Daenerys had conquered King's Landing and finally reclaimed the home she'd been meant to live in, to love in and to rule in for the rest of her days. Now where was she? Velaris, the violet eyed devil called it. She knew no map that bore the city's mark. This had to be a dream, surely. Or maybe she really was dead...maybe this was what awaited those who drifted off into eternal slumber: another life full of its own toils and trials. How cruel.

Anger seeped into her spirit at the idea of someone else laying claim to her throne - a throne she'd not only earned by birthright, but by the will of the people. Oh how the scorned queen longed for nothing more than to repay blood with blood. Jon Snow...she scowled at his memory while hugging both knees to her chest…He would pay for his betrayal. Daenerys would make her way back from where she came, start all over again if she had to, but she could - would do it.

Once again the Mother of Dragons was a stranger in strange lands...except now there was no Jorah to guard her, no khalasar to lead or terrifying beasts to cherish. There, in the midst of a lavish bedroom bathed in brilliant hues of violet and silver, she had never felt more alone. 

It'd been some time after her saviors (or captors) left until she willed herself out of bed and to the door. With one hand on its sturdy midnight-stained wood, the other on the intricate latch of a silver handle, she finally dared to sneak a peek out to the magnificent hall beyond. Daenerys more than half expected to find a guard waiting there....though, to her surprise, the queen found no one keen on stopping her...just as they'd promised. Daenerys stilled; swallowing down a relieved sigh before stepping back into a room she had yet to familiarize herself with. 

She tracked first to the large silver-linned mirror that sat within the portion of the room dedicated to self maintenance. Dim, weary lilac eyes stared back at her through that crystal clear reflection. She'd been changed out from heavy leathers into a loose fitting pale grey nightgown (to her own horror - the idea of being unconscious and bare made her feel uneasy). Her hip length snowy hair was loose and tousled; under eyes purpled from exhaustion and plush lips chapped from the cold. Thankfully it was warm in the room...which was odd considering the open balcony. Though perhaps not as odd as a stranger attempting to go unnoticed while rummaging through her mind. 

What was it the winged warrior said while she was coming to? "She's no High Fae"...Ludicrous. Did he have a reason to believe otherwise? Fairies were creatures of legend - the subject of stories crafted to inspire little children to behave. 

Then again, she once thought the same of White Walkers.

Daenerys swallowed as she collected her waterfall of starlight hair over one shoulder to brush through a comb of delicate fingers - a method of self comfort she'd adopted during her time as wife to the great Khal Drogo. She quite enjoyed braiding his hair. In those rare blessed moments when it was just them in the privacy of their own home...well, they could be nothing else but their truest selves. Before a crackling fire would the Khaleesi sit at his back and take her time with those dark locks. They'd talk about everything and nothing...and she had learned to love him as fiercely as she knew he must've loved her. 

Deep breath, Dany.

Much like her initial introduction to the Dothraki, she was out of her element here. If these were practitioners of magic then Daenerys had no horse, or dragon, in this race. No, she only had her sharp wit and a will of steel. At the very least...they were being hospitable. She'd play the game if it meant survival; be careful and observant for a chance at returning home. Politically polite.

Her eyes drifted to the large archways that led to the balcony. The open area was separated from the rest of the room with sheer flowing curtains of deep violet. They danced against a gentle breeze she couldn't feel - another trick she didn't have the mental fortitude to even begin trying to explain. 

With another slow steadying breath did Daenerys make for those large archways. Something shifted in the atmosphere around her as she slipped out into the open air. Though winter wore the seasonal crown she still didn't feel any icy chill. But she could feel the breeze; could bask in the sun's kiss and gulp in the fresh air. She might've marveled at the display of sorcery if she weren't so caught up gawking at the city below her. 

Velaris. Despite her pilgrimage from one corner of Westros to the next, Dany had never seen nor ruled a kingdom of such refined splendor. Feather light hands braced against the stone railing's ledge as her breath left in one fowl swoop. This was a city of dreams - the landscape she pictured whenever her brother would tell her stories of Old Valyria and a time of peace governed by their forefathers. The rippling plains, the magnificent architecture and lively ecosystem of people she could only make out as ants living peacefully down below left her standing there, barefoot and motionless, for too long of a time. This view paired with the luxury of what she presumed would be her room for a time made for quite the "prison". She was beginning to think of it less as such. Perhaps these strange hosts were in fact honest in their ignorance - maybe they really did want to help her, invasive mind meddling aside.

And then came that feeling again...a wrongness in her spirit, a sense that someone or something was watching her from inside.

Sharply did the young Queen turn to face the room, one hand still set upon the ledge. "Hello?" She called with a song of pristine confidence, "Won't you do me the courtesy of introducing yourself? Or at the very least have the courage to show your face." But no one answered. Her back straightened and eyes flared as she debated whether or not she'd gone mad...or to trust her intuition and know that something threatening awaited her inside. Was death even worthy of her fear anymore? Could anything hurt more than that knife in her heart or the look in Jon's eyes? Fear was a stranger. Strength and fury were her allies now, and they walked beside her with every step towards those grand archways. 

Daenerys entered the spacious and seemingly empty room with controlled authority. She folded her hands over her lap while tracking to the center, eyes flickering from left to right. By the old gods, she could still feel it. Whatever it was, its attention was keyed in on her...and it made her mind cry out with alarm. Suddenly Dany turned to one of the darker corners of the room, a section occupied with pillows meant for keeping company, and a chill ran up her back. Though it was dimly lit compared to the rest of the space, she could still very clearly recognize the spot as empty. She was completely alone...and yet…

Her legs moved on their own accord as bright eyes narrowed and her head tilted to a curious angle. A newfound tension arose in the air thick enough to weigh upon her shoulders. The Queen ignored this and persisted, lifting a hand to meet the shadows that danced against the intricate pattern of wallpaper. Before she could reach it, however, the door to her room was opened with a knock. Daenerys turned to find a young woman with midnight skin and deep brown eyes looking back at her at the doorway. Her thick wavy silver hair was tied back in a loose bun, clothes elegant and flowing like silk in water. 

Just like that, the feeling left her and the tension slacked.

The stranger bowed reverently. "Your Highness." She greeted before straightening, "My name is Nyxia, I will be your handmaiden for the duration of your stay here in Velaris. It is an honor to be in your service." The tight line of Daenerys' shoulders loosed with a glance back to the shadow her fingers hadn't managed to graze, gaze lingering there inquisitively only a moment before returning to the beautiful handmaiden. Her ears carried a tapper like the others (except for that winged male - perhaps the gods thought his wings were magnificent enough), and she looked no older than seventeen. "A pleasure, Nyxia." Dany finally breathed. Polite but ever cautious...handmaiden or not, she wasn't daft. This girl was more than a helping hand - she was an eye and an ear meant to stay trained on the mysterious forgeign Queen. A watcher. "You may come in." 

And on she came. 

Daenerys hadn't noticed (too enraptured with the maiden's ethereal beauty), but the girl carried with her flowing sky blue fabric slung over her forearms. A new change of clothes? Nyxia must have caught her interested glance because she made a show of draping the attire over the chaise nearest to the elegant vanity at the opposing end of the room. "Dinner will be ready shortly. The High Lord imagined you may want something to wear other than a nightgown. I chose this lovely set myself, actually." Spoken with pride and a cheery perk of her brow. Daenerys showed the remark little acknowledgement. "...You think well of him?" A bold question from a bold woman. Daenerys didn't expect the truth - but she didn't need it to read a face or to hear the shift in someone's voice. "Of your High Lord?" 

Nyxia paused, the edges of her mouth lifting to a sure smile. "How could I not?" She began simply, "He has sacrificed more than anyone should for the sake of one's kind. Dear Queen, he is a man of honor I assure you. You've nothing to fear from him in your position."

In her position? That implied the worst otherwise. Then again, Daenerys knew what it was to rule...to be cautious of any and all for the sake of her people. She nodded once before joining Nyxia to admire the chosen outfit. Two pieces made up a whole - the top half a loose blend of sharp azure and deep violet that cut off right above her navel. The sleeves would hug her arms and end at her wrist, though they were completely sheer. The collar was wide so that her shoulders would be somewhat exposed. As for the bottom half? It was not a skirt - but trousers. The start would hug her waist but as the fabric traveled down it would grow loose and dance around her legs with every step. The style reminded her of something she might find worn by a royal of Dorne. Like their fashion, specifically for their women, the outfit's sheer fabric was layered atop even more sheer fabric to hide the body just enough. She'd worn less for far worse. This was beautiful, at least.

"And your High Lady?" Daenerys continued as she let her fingers slip along the well made design of the sleeve. "Oh-" Nyxia sighed happily, "She is not only his match, but ours. Her service to Velaris is but a fraction of what she has done for Prythian as a whole."

“Prythian?”

Nyxia blinked. “Yes...The great land on which all the Fae Courts reside.” There was that word again. Fae. Daenerys did her best to mask the way the word unnerved. Not because she was afraid of them, no (though perhaps she should have been) - but because every second spent in this strange land felt more and more like a wild dream. Fae didn’t exist. And yet here one was, in all her otherworldly beauty, explaining to her concepts so foreign and new that the Queen felt as if her head were spinning. Nyxia continued, “It is good fortune that brought you to us here in the Night Court. Other High Lords may not have been too keen on helping a human, much less welcoming one into their home.”

At that, Daenerys perked a brow and flickered her eyes up to meet the maidservant. “Why?” The question seemed to stun the girl. She hesitated, head tilting to the side in thought. “The High Lord did say you were from a long ways away…” The statement was spoken under her breath before she went on to speak to Daenerys directly. “Human kind and Fae...well, we have a bit of a muddied history.” She seemed uncomfortable. Afraid to offend, perhaps. Daenerys pressed on, gaze unwavering upon the girl as she awaited an explanation. If humanity and the Fae had a bad relationship then she had a right to know. She was, after all, very much human. So much for feeling the least bit secure here. 

“There was a time when humans served under our kind, though not by choice.”

Oh.

“Then came the war. Humanity liberated themselves with the help of allied Fae and now remain secluded South of the wall. That was so long ago...we’ve been separated ever since. That is, until Feyre Cursebreaker. Our beloved High Lady.” At that, Daenerys took in a slow breath through her nose. “Cursebreaker?” Nyxia only smiled and shook her head, “I suppose that isn’t my tale to tell.” She gestured for Daenerys to sit in front of the vanity, which she reluctantly gave into. “Just know that this Court is your ally, dear Queen. You’ve no enemies here.” The maidservant mused the words so happily that Daenerys almost didn’t notice nimble hands finding their way to her hair, a comb at the ready. The Khaleesi went stiff. “No.” She stated tightly. Nyxia paused and looked at Daenerys’ face through the mirror, brows raised with worry. 

Missandei. She hadn’t let anyone touch, much less style her hair since that day at the gates of King’s Landing. Every braid Daenerys tied on her own head from then on was a reminder of that morning. The look of rage in her friend's usually soft, calm eyes - a look that called for justice. A look that tormented her every night since. 

“No, I...Thank you, but I think i’ll dress and prime my hair on my own.” The words held a certain weight to them despite their polite delivery. A weariness. Nyxia chose not to pry and instead slowly retracted the comb with a small smile and an even smaller nod. “Of course.” They held each other’s gaze for a second more before the maidservant turned to gesture towards a short hallway leading to another section of the room. “Your bath has been drawn. I shall be waiting for you outside your door. Should you need anything, dear Queen, do not hesitate to call for me." A bath drawn without a hand to touch it. Daenerys swallowed and postured with a curt nod as if that sort of thing were normal - as if her life hadn't just been flipped on its head; as if she wasn't alone in a stranger's world or perhaps the only plain, regular human thing in all "Prythian". 

As Nyxia slipped out the door did a shaken sigh slip past the Queen's plush lips. She was still tired. Not as bone achingly exhausted as before, but weary in both body and mind.

And hungry. 

A bath would do her good for more than becoming presentable for dinner. She longed for a boiling soak. The kind that, hopefully, would still her swirling thoughts and relax the stiff coil of her spine. And when she stripped bare and strided into the extravagant washroom; that's just the kind of bath she was greeted with. Daenerys couldn't help the groan that left her when she sunk shoulders deep into the tub (one that was large enough to fit 3), and relished the feeling of scrubbing weeks of war off her skin. Carefully did she rediscover her body, the same one she once shielded with thick furs or wartime leathers, and cautiously paused once she came to the newly acquired scar below the valley of her breasts. It was neither large nor small; a mere few inches in length but coarse enough to notice against otherwise fair porcelain skin. She could still feel it. The edge of that chilled steel knife sinking deeper and deeper until it pierced her fiery heart remained fresh in her memory. The flash of shock, the spark of betrayal, the flicker of rage before there was nothing left. Her eyes were hot. Burning tears pooled at their corners and she couldn't decipher whether she was grieved or enraged. Did it matter? She forcefully blinked them away before tending to the rest of her bath.

When Daenerys was out and dry and finally clean did her focus shift to Nyxis's chosen attire. Surprisingly it fit her just right...almost as if it were made for her. Perhaps it was. Would that be so far of a stretch in a place like this? Before a mirror did she turn and admire herself at different angles. The fabric hugged her just right where it needed to and relaxed to an enchanting flow where it didn't. There were flecks of silver dust mixed in all that blue...something she hadn't come to notice at first but now could clearly spot as they glinted sporadically with every movement. What kind of fabric was this? It felt weightless yet, in theory, should have irritated her skin. Instead this was perhaps the most comfortable "formal" wear she ever donned. 

Now for her hair. In all those years on the path from becoming a wife to the Great Khal to leading the Dothraki on her own, Daenerys never abandoned her braids. The style always wavered to fit the occasion, true, but those crowning braids always remained. She had grown skilled in fashioning intricate designs despite being slightly out of practice with Missandei's even steadier hand at work. Her hair was longer than it'd ever been too, which made it a bit more difficult to handle. 

Daenerys tied four braids, two at either side of the crown of her head, and let the rest flow free in a waterfall of naturally loose waves. The braids met in a neat and tight coil at the back; leaving most of her hair out of her face. To finish? She found her old clothes folded at the foot of the bed. The leathers were useless now...but the steel broach that held her cloak in place? It remained intact. Her house's striking sigil - the three headed dragon - now sat nestled within the twist of braids at the back of her head. Pristine as ever...she looked and felt like a Queen again. It was time to reintroduce herself. 


End file.
